


Five Things Runner Five Fortunately Never Did

by Violet_Kadzley



Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: 5 Things, Gen, Humor, Mission 19 Spoilers, Mission 9 Spoilers, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 09:47:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violet_Kadzley/pseuds/Violet_Kadzley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or, five reasons Runner Five is still alive and loved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Things Runner Five Fortunately Never Did

**Author's Note:**

> I would never have written and posted this without the loving encouragement of the ZR fandom. Thank you all for getting me to write again. (Crossposted from Tumblr.)

**1\. Improperly prioritize.**

The zoms have her now; she's nearly gagging on the stench of old blood and shit and flesh. Sam's screaming desperately in her ears, nearly drowned out by all of _their_ moaning, which itself is barely audible over the breath heaving in her chest. She still has one last option, and though she's never liked it, it's either that or be dragged into the horde.  
  
So she tosses the Demons  & Darkness 4th Edition Core Rulebook over her shoulder. There's a loud _WHUMP_ and several groans that sound something close to confused, and she's almost inclined to turn around and see if she took out the one with the doofy glasses. No time for that, though--she thinks the pack is slowing, or at least getting less loud.  
  
Maxine and Sam congratulate her and sigh in relief. It lasts about a second before they realize what she threw.  
  
Of course, they're still glad she's alive and everything. But there's a subtle note of disappointment in Maxine's voice, and Sam asks why she couldn't have dropped a sports bra or something.  
 **  
**

 **2\. Forget the rules of gun safety.**  
  
The two of them are coming back from a decoy mission, all smiles and laughter and arms slung over each others' shoulders. Sara says something lighthearted about the zombies that Five doesn't quite catch, but she finds herself caught up in giggles anyway. Today was a good day, because she didn't even _need_ the pistol in her hand, and she's not feeling any ill effects from her adrenaline rush just yet.  
  
They're almost at the gates when Five steps away to make an excited gesture, and one finger twitches in a way it shouldn't. There's a _CRACK,_ almost like fireworks, and Sara makes this strange sort of "oh" noise.  
  
Neither of them really process what's happened until Sara crumples like a marionette with cut strings, staring at Five with something akin to betrayal in her eyes. _Oh god,_ Five whispers, and the gun drops from her shaking hand. For a second she can't even remember how to shout for help, just keeps mouthing apologies while Janine demands to know _what the hell just happened, Five?_  
 **  
**

 **3\. Stop running.**  
  
She's focused on two things: the red light in the distance, and Sam's voice. _Just keep running_ is playing over and over in her mind, and everything else is a haze blurring into the night around her. She can hear the moaning of approaching zombies, but it seems so far away compared to Sam talking endlessly at nothing.  
  
He wonders aloud who will remember her, and her foot catches on a rock jutting out of the ground, and she goes tumbling headfirst into the dirt.  
  
As Sam goes on, she tries to collect herself, with her limbs splayed at awkward angles and her mouth tasting like blood. Her eyes go wide as she realizes she can't get up, something's got her ankle, and she turns her head--  
  
\--it's a damned crawler, practically howling as it clutches her leg with a grip like a vise. Frantic, she attempts to tug herself away, but its rotting fingers dig into her skin the more she tries. The zombie pulls itself forward with its other hand, mouth hanging open, dead eyes staring into hers.  
  
Sam pauses. She can hear more coming. She can't see them, but they must be close.  
  
"Remember me," she gasps into her headset, even though she knows he can't hear a word she says. "Please. I'm sorry, Sam. I never wanted, I never...

 

 **4\. Kill them all.**  
  
They tell her zombies have entered through the back door. She hears them stumbling around in what's probably the kitchen, all groaning over each other. At least ten, she guesses, which means there'll be more. He once told her about the critical mass of a horde, how they inevitably draw others to them at that point.  
  
His breathing wheezes and rattles in her ears, then collapses into another bout of desperate coughing. She thinks she heard him try to say something, something about _her,_ and it's in this moment that something sparks in her mind.  
  
It's easy to forget that six months ago, this was a happy home. It's easy to think that the envelope lying on the table is the only thing important here, but--but this place now feels like hallowed ground, a piece of days gone by. All of a sudden, the mere thought of the zombies setting foot in this house stirs up old anger. White-hot rage and resentment flares in her chest; the mask of resigned determination she's been wearing cracks and splinters.  
  
A violin's been haphazardly placed against the wall, its surface and strings spattered with gore. She takes it by the neck and turns to the kitchen, even though some part of her knows she can't herd them like he did, knows that there are far too many and there will be so many more.  
  
Before anyone can ask what she's doing, she turns off her headset.  


 **5\. Never manage to start.**  
  
No one is coming to help them.  
  
She stopped trying to move a while ago. There's no way she'd be able to make it to the township like this, shrapnel digging into every inch of her skin, legs twisted in directions they aren't meant to go. The supplies are scattered just a few feet away, out of reach, taunting them. The pilot hasn't said a word since they crashed and their radio cut out, but she's still breathing, raggedly.  
  
"I wish it were like the movies," she says, and lets out a bitter laugh.  
  
The pilot shifts slightly, then stifles a cry of pain. She's trapped in her seat, held there by the belts that supposedly make things safer.  
  
"Because we wouldn't have to wait if this was a movie."  
  
She draws in a shaky breath, and listens. The faint sound of low groaning drops a cold weight in her stomach. She knew they'd come, because they're attracted to noise, but she isn't sure whether it's worse to slowly bleed out or become one of them.  
  
"I... I never asked your name," she says, trying to forget for now.  
  
There's no answer for a while. The moaning doesn't get any quieter, but she doesn't hear it getting louder either. The pilot exhales, a long, slow sigh. "...Naomi. It's Naomi."  
  
"Hi, Naomi." She tries to smile, even though no one's around to see it. "I'm Quinn."  


**Author's Note:**

> "Quinn" sounds like "quint," as in five.


End file.
